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warmeryouthBailey's beginning to feel overwhelmed, with the amount of work he's putting into his job at Siren Cove Middle School. He has the winter concert to think of, even though it's only October. He has several angry parents on his case for letting his students listen to a bit of Les Miserables, even though he made sure it was a song without curse words or overly adult themes; and the cherry on top of the pie (or however that metaphor goes), of course, is one Brian Darling, son of an executive vice president currently throwing a tantrum over the failing grade he received on his music theory test, with his dear father stomping his foot alongside him.
So now, as Bailey walks home in the growing dark from school, his head aches and he wants nothing more than to curl up with a bottle of Jack Daniels and some trashy reality television to take his mind off things. But he has papers to grade. And a Skype session with his sister to keep.
He lives in one of the worse off neighborhoods in town, but that fact never bothers him. Good people live there, and Bailey considers himself lucky to know them. So he isn't paying much attention when the man, dressed like he's come straight from the set of Sons of Anarchy, chains, tattoos, and all, falls into step behind him; he's concentrating on trying to will away his headache.
"Give me your wallet, you scrawny piece of shit," a low voice hisses in his left ear before Bailey can even so much as respond. He tenses immediately, cursing internally. It's times like this that he wishes he had more use with his powers of influence.
"And what if I don't?" It's stupid as shit to talk back to the jerk, but Bailey's a New Yorker at heart, and frankly, after the day he's had, he doesn't have it in him to be polite.
"I'll give you points for trying," the man, whose shaggy, blonde hair falls in front of his ice colored eyes like a torn up carpet, flashes him a devil's grin before Bailey feels a sudden, sharp pain in his left side.
"Fuck," he hisses, making to clutch at the new knife wound as the man kicks him to the pavement, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet before stabbing him once more for good measure.
All Bailey can do is bleed and groan into the sidewalk.
Find Bailey on the ground in between his apartment and the Siren Cove Middle School, bleeding from his wounds. The attacker is just some vague NPC who can totally be used for other plots if you have a mind to. Bailey could do with some help, though!
So now, as Bailey walks home in the growing dark from school, his head aches and he wants nothing more than to curl up with a bottle of Jack Daniels and some trashy reality television to take his mind off things. But he has papers to grade. And a Skype session with his sister to keep.
He lives in one of the worse off neighborhoods in town, but that fact never bothers him. Good people live there, and Bailey considers himself lucky to know them. So he isn't paying much attention when the man, dressed like he's come straight from the set of Sons of Anarchy, chains, tattoos, and all, falls into step behind him; he's concentrating on trying to will away his headache.
"Give me your wallet, you scrawny piece of shit," a low voice hisses in his left ear before Bailey can even so much as respond. He tenses immediately, cursing internally. It's times like this that he wishes he had more use with his powers of influence.
"And what if I don't?" It's stupid as shit to talk back to the jerk, but Bailey's a New Yorker at heart, and frankly, after the day he's had, he doesn't have it in him to be polite.
"I'll give you points for trying," the man, whose shaggy, blonde hair falls in front of his ice colored eyes like a torn up carpet, flashes him a devil's grin before Bailey feels a sudden, sharp pain in his left side.
"Fuck," he hisses, making to clutch at the new knife wound as the man kicks him to the pavement, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet before stabbing him once more for good measure.
All Bailey can do is bleed and groan into the sidewalk.
Find Bailey on the ground in between his apartment and the Siren Cove Middle School, bleeding from his wounds. The attacker is just some vague NPC who can totally be used for other plots if you have a mind to. Bailey could do with some help, though!
no subject
Date: 2014-10-26 01:25 am (UTC)"That would be really fantastic," he winces, knowing how desperate he must sound. Still, he cannot deny himself company, especially someone like Davin, who appears to be really swell to have in your corner in a tight pinch.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-27 06:58 pm (UTC)"But still, don't worry about it. I'm not. Jus' worried about you." The ambulance pulls up and Davin squints against the lights, keeping one hand on Bailey. "'course I'll come."
He hears, and understands, the desperation in Bailey's voice, the desire to not be alone. He wouldn't want to be alone either. He only lets go of Bailey so that the paramedics can load him onto a stretcher, and by that point the police have arrived.
"I saw everythin'," Davin says when they approach him. "I saw that guy muggin' my friend and he stabbed him before I could get to him, and I hit him with my clipboard and called all you guys."
The cops nod and a pair of them collect the unconscious mugger off of the pavement while another set takes all of Davin's information, asking him to come in later. "I will. Ya have my number an' I'll come in tomorrow, but I gotta go."
The cops wave him off and he sighs in relief, running over and hopping into the ambulance just before they close the doors. There's some protest but Davin sits down and puts his hand on Bailey's ankle. "Try an' stop me. I'm not leavin' him."